Arbitration
by Tater Chip Girl
Summary: (Chapter 3 here) AU - A violent shipping dispute on a remote planet brings together two unlikely people. Trust and power hang in the balance, for them as well as the world in which they find themselves.
1. Chapter 01

The trip to Dekronas took about six months - not that she'd notice, deep in cryosleep. She didn't dream for a change, which was good. She didn't like her dreams of late. They'd been the maniacally busy kind, where she'd start a task and find herself in an infinite loop, with only slight variations, never seeming to finish anything. Sometimes the mind just won't shut down and forget about work.

Her work - shipping arbitration - was the reason for this long journey. Over the years and on many worlds, she'd negotiated difficult contracts and transactions, her skills eventually gaining enough attention to put her in high demand. Nowadays she had to do a kind of triage on the many requests she received, accepting first the ones where things seemed likely to blow apart if something wasn't done immediately to defuse the situation.

Dekronas was one such situation - a colony planet on the far edge of the Demeter system. Its remoteness meant it was pretty much a law unto itself, but it was just far enough inside the quadrant lines to qualify for protection and assistance under intergalactic law. The files she'd studied before her journey told her that things had been alright up until two years ago, when a group of independent shippers decided to band together and challenge shipping regulations (which naturally tended to favor the larger companies). Needless to say, the response had not been positive, resulting in a series of escalating sabotage incidents on some of the larger deep-space freighters, many resulting in millions of credits in damage. Without solid evidence, no blame could be placed on the indies, but that didn't stop the big companies from sending out their boys to do a little retaliatory roughing-up.

That was where she came in. A few weeks of correspondence had finalized her contract as official Arbiter for the dispute, and obtained agreements from both faction leaders to cease all hostilities until her arrival.

_Yeah, good luck *there*,_ she'd thought as she read the documents. _Like we can really make 'em do *anything* from way the fuck over here._

And then there were the local customs to worry about. She was shocked to find that part of the Dekronian shipping business was devoted to the slave trade. They used mostly convicted criminals fitted with behavioral inhibitors, reasoning that they should be made use of rather than left to sit in cells drawing free food and medical care from their respective local governments. The governments, of course, were glad of the extra money from their "reimbursement of expenses" (they were careful never to use the word "sale"), and even more glad to be relieved of their constant upkeep.

Really, when you thought about it, it made pretty good sense, but still...it would take some getting used to. This was her first trip to a planet where slavery was condoned. She had horrible images of torture and malnutrition in her head, having read the histories of other slave-based cultures. Her final message exchange with an official of the Dekronian government had brought assurances that the well-being of slaves was carefully monitored.

In fact, said the man in his response, the behavioral inhibitors worn by the slaves remove all necessity of discipline, as all violent impulses are effectively blocked, rendering them as docile and obedient as a child's house pet. Additionally, any abuse of this system by slave owners was quickly punished. Bad for business, you know, he said. Wouldn't want the government to step in and take away the workers we depend on.

_Oh, nooo - we simply can't have *that*, now can we?_ she thought ruefully, shaking her head as the words scrolled down her screen. _I'll be glad when *this* trip's over._

The ozone-like smell crept into her nostrils, slowly bringing her around. Her eyes fluttered open, showing her people in red jumpsuits moving around outside, stopping now and then at some of the other tubes to tap buttons on the small panels on the doors. She blinked a few times and took a deep breath, feeling instantly energized.

_Gotta love that wake-up gas,_ she thought.

A red-suited flight attendant appeared at her window, smiling his professional smile as he punched in the codes to open her tube. The door unsealed with a popping hiss and slid back.

"Good evening, Arbiter." Jim - according to his name tag - began releasing the cushioned braces that had held her safely in position during the flight. "Welcome to Dekronas."

"Thanks," she whispered, and cleared her throat.

Jim handed her a small plastic vial of clear fluid. "This'll bring your voice back faster. Just squirt it straight down your throat."

She nodded her thanks, took it and followed his instructions, handing the empty vial back to him. He stuck it into a pocket, then helped her carefully out of her tube. The wake-up gas had worked its magic, and she was able to stand without wavering.

"What time is it?" she asked him, her voice almost normal now.

"Local time is 6:48 pm, ma'am. Surface weather's a bit drizzly right now, but it's still warm. The rain should be clearing up by late morning." He looked towards the end of the large compartment, where more flight attendants were shepherding other passengers into shuttlecraft. "Your luggage is confirmed as transferred and loaded, ma'am," he smiled at her, lifting his arm to indicate the departing group. "Just follow the rest of the offloading passengers, and you'll be shown to your seat on our surface shuttle."

"Thanks." She ran a hand through her hair and tugged at her flowing official robes to straighten them. A smiling female attendant escorted her to her seat on the comfortable first-class shuttle and locked her in.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a pleasant male voice announced over the speakers. "Welcome to Dekronas. In a few minutes, we'll be leaving the shuttle bay and preparing for atmospheric entry. If this is your first time on a surface shuttle, you should expect a bit of a bumpy ride when we hit the upper atmosphere. Our stabilizer system will dampen most of the shuttle's motion during this time, but we still ask that you secure all loose objects on your person until re-entry is complete. Those with sensitive stomachs and vertigo, please note that an anti-nausea mask is located on the seat back in front of you. Thank you for traveling with Interspace Transport, and enjoy your stay on Dekronas."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, wishing she could take out her notes and give them a last quick look. The idea of living among slave owners for days, weeks or possibly months was rather daunting. She'd studied all she could about their culture - it was similar enough to her own to make her at least somewhat comfortable. It helped, too, that they spoke Common and English along with their native tongue (thanks to the Earthies who'd settled there).

But still - *slaves*...

With any luck, she could wrap this thing up in less than two weeks, barring any ceremonial difficulties, and get the hell back home.

The shuttle shook as the docking clamps released, its engines powering up while the turntable spun the thing around to face the open bay door. Then they were out and in free fall for a few seconds before the pilot leveled them out and began their descent. Across the aisle from her, an older man grabbed his anti-nausea mask and breathed in the soothing gas mixture. His female companion, apparently an old pro at this, appeared to be napping.

_Not a bad idea,_ she thought, closing her eyes again. _I'd take a nap too, if I weren't so goddam awake already._

She relaxed and lost herself in thoughts of a good meal and a hot shower, maybe a walk around to get the feel of her surroundings.

_Oh, damn - forgot, it's raining. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow, after it clears up. I'll schedule the first meeting for afternoon so I don't have to rush._

Suddenly, the shuttle started moving in a very un-shuttle-like manner. If she didn't know better, she'd swear they were fishtailing. Just as she sat up to look around, it happened again - this time it was clear that something was very wrong. The passengers were mashed back against their seats by centrifugal force as the thing spun crazily. The old man lost his grip on the anti-nausea mask and threw up. His vomit, forced back down his throat and into his windpipe, started slowly choking him to death. She watched, helpless, as he struggled to breathe for a few seconds, then went limp.

_Oh, shit,_ was all she could think. _I'm about to die._

The spinning and tumbling seemed endless. Pinned to their seats, no one could move or even speak. All they could do was stare resignedly at each other as the thunder of re-entry boomed around them, along with what sounded like missiles flying past. Every few seconds, there was a metallic thud as objects slammed into the hull. Right after one of these thuds, a whistling sound began somewhere near the back. It was a toss-up as to whether the sweat on their faces came from the heat of re-entry or just plain scared shitlessness.

_Outer hull breach,_ she thought. _If we can just make it through the atmosphere without falling apart or burning up -_

The craft gave a mighty lurch, shuddering and groaning. The whistling grew louder, and the spinning motion decreased. After a bit more lurching, the shuttle miraculously seemed to straighten itself out.

_At least we can breathe,_ she thought, gripping the arms of her seat. _They went down breathing, sir,_ she added, almost giggling at the ridiculousness of it.

She could tell by the changing motion and sound exactly when they broke through the atmosphere. The vehicle was now aimed downward and descending rapidly. Too rapidly, as if it were still out of control. It bucked once, like a giant horse being broken, and the angle eased up a bit. She thought she could hear the braking panels being deployed. The pilot's tense voice came over the speakers.

"Brace for impact! Brace for impact!" was all he had time to say before they slammed into the ground and started skidding. They bounced once, twice, three times, then skewed around to one side just as the back of the thing gave a deafening crack and split apart. The last thing she remembered was the dark grey sky, rain on her face, and the dreamy slow motion of her blue and white robes whipping up around her.

When she came to, it was still raining. She was on her right side, still firmly locked into her seat. It hurt to breathe - every hitching gasp brought a searing stab of pain in her side. Moving very slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head to the left. The other half of the shuttle was gone, and judging by the splashing noises, her half had been collecting rainwater for some time. There were other noises too - voices calling out in the darkness, boots clambering over wreckage.

She tried to yell, but managed only a weak rasp that ended in a coughing fit and spikes of white-hot pain. Her left arm seemed ok, so she held it up, hoping one of the sweeping light beams would detect it.

"Hey! Over there!" a commanding female voice shouted. One of the beams jumped over to where she lay, and she waved her hand as much as she could without hurting herself. In seconds, the sounds of running feet advanced towards her, and a face peered over the edge of the wreckage.

"Holy shit!" a male voice said. "It's the Arbiter!" He turned and waved his handlight behind him. "Medic! We got a live one here!"

More running feet, and then she was surrounded by at least five people, one of whom gently unlocked her seat brace. The others lifted her out together, sending another wave of pain through her. She couldn't even scream, it hurt so much. Her chest felt full of fire. The group deposited her on the ground, then gentle hands probed her body for injuries. She let out a choked sob when the hands pressed into her side.

"Right side ribs are broken," a new male voice said. "Can you speak, ma'am?"

She shook her head. Even in the rain, she could feel the hot tears of agony pouring from her eyes.

"Punctured lung," the voice said. He pulled something out of a box beside him and pressed it to her neck. "This'll make you sleep," he said, sounding suddenly echoey and far away. "Don't worry, Arbiter McClellan - you're gonna be ok now. Move 'er out!" The man stepped away and signaled two others to ease her onto a stretcher. Her vision was going fuzzy, but she could see looming over her in the beam of a handlight a set of broad shoulders in a dark wet t-shirt, topped by a pair of large brown eyes.

_Don't I know you from somewhere? _she wanted to ask, but sleep was calling, and it felt so good to let go and just sink into it. By the time the stretcher was lifted from the ground, she had gone under.


	2. Chapter 02

The Arbiter woke up alone in a quiet, dimly-lit hospital room. She lay very still, listening to the muffled voices and footsteps outside her door as her sleep-fogged brain tried to piece together exactly how she'd gotten here.

_The shuttle ... we crashed ... rain ... search party ... lights ... broken ribs ... _

McClellan slid a cautious hand over to her right side - slight tenderness, nothing more. As a test, she took one very deep, slow breath. There was none of the burning pain she remembered from the crash. Good. Now, if only she could get someone in here and find out what the hell had happened. She sat up, found the call button and pressed it. A few seconds later, the door burst open and a wide-eyed young nurse rushed in.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hands starting to flutter nervously in front of her. "You're awake!"

"Can you - " McClellan began, but the woman took off without waiting for her to finish.

The nurse returned quickly, this time accompanied by a female doctor. "I hope you'll excuse Tremara's behavior, Arbiter," she said, shooting a stern glance at the nurse. "She's a bit in awe of your celebrity." The doctor bowed respectfully, nudging the nervous Tremara to do the same. "I'm Dr. Keenan. It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am, and an honor to have you among us."

McClellan bowed as best she could, considering she was still sitting in a hospital bed. "Your open arms honor me," she replied, using the semi-formal response, since this was their first meeting. (The longer formal one would be used if and when she was greeted by an official Dekronian welcoming committee.)

"Liaison Rellamarsen asked me to call him when you feel up to a visit. Would you like me to do that now, or wait until you've had time to change?"

McClellan frowned. "Change? But my luggage is - "

Dr. Keenan lifted a hand to indicate a corner of the room. McClellan looked, and was surprised to find her luggage case - beat to hell, but still intact - sitting there.

"Oh ... " She looked back at the doctor. "Thank you. I think I *will* freshen up a bit."

Dr. Keenan smiled. "Very good, ma'am. You should have no trouble - you're almost completely healed. I'll have Tremara wait outside your door. If you let her know when you're ready, she'll come to me, and I'll call the Liaison." The young nurse smiled and puffed up a bit with pride. She was clearly quite pleased with her assignment.

"Sounds good to me." McClellan turned and let her legs dangle over the side of the bed. "How long have I been here, anyway?"

"This is your second day, ma'am," said Keenan. "Your injuries weren't as serious as we first thought, so it didn't take much time to mend them."

The Arbiter nodded. "What caused the accident, do you know?" Both Keenan and Tremara grew suddenly stiff and mournful-looking, as if unexpectedly shown a picture of a dead loved one.

"I think, ma'am ... " Keenan said slowly, "That would best be explained by Liaison Rellamarsen."

McClellan looked from one pained face to another, then nodded. "Of course."

"We'll leave you alone now," Keenan said softly, with a slight bow. Tremara bowed also, and both women left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

McClellan walked carefully to the corner and opened her luggage case to check the condition of her belongings. Everything, including the portable computer with all her work-related records and information, seemed to be in good shape. She extracted a fresh set of official blue-and-white Arbiter's robes (she always traveled with several), shook them out, and laid them carefully on the bed. A quick shower, a clip for her hair, and she'd be fit for her meeting with Rellamarsen. She hoped he'd be able to answer all her questions.

Twenty minutes later, she was ready. Tremara bowed and shot down the hall like an arrow when McClellan informed her, and a few moments later, Somin Rellamarsen (who had obviously been contacted already) appeared, followed by a man and woman dressed entirely in dark grey, from t-shirts to shoes. Both wore collars of woven metal with engraved oval medallions on the front. Rellamarsen himself wore the colorful ceremonial robes of his office.

"Arbiter, what a pleasure to see you alive and well! My people are greatly honored by the gift of your presence." Rellamarsen approached her, bowing deeply. The grey-clad man and woman bowed also.

"Your people honor me with their open arms, Liaison." said McClellan, bowing in return. "I am unworthy of such a reception."

"It is we who are unworthy. We beg you to accept our welcome," the Liaison replied. Both he and McClellan bowed once more, completing the ceremonial greeting.

"Arbiter, may I also belatedly express on behalf of my people our sadness at the passing of your husband." Somin bowed again, and much lower than before.

"Thank you, Liaison." After two years of widowhood, she'd grown accustomed to this. She could do it now with dry eyes, and gave the appropriate ceremonial response without missing a beat. "You honor his memory by sharing the burden of my grief." They stood in silence for a moment, their hands over their hearts in a gesture of respect for the dead.

"Now," he said in a normal voice, extending his hand to her in the traditional Earth manner. "You *must* call me Somin. I insist. All this ceremony quickly grows tiresome, don't you agree?"

"I certainly do," she smiled, shaking his hand. "Will you introduce me to your friends?" She turned to the man and woman beside him.

"Friends? Oh, no," he laughed, waving his hand in negation. "They're not - "

"Uh, Somin?" She held up her hand for silence, her eyes fixed on the medallions worn by the couple. "Why is my name engraved on their necklaces?"

Somin looked a bit confused. "Because, ma'am," he explained, "They are now your property."

Her mouth flew open. "My prop ... oh, no - wait a minute." She looked back and forth between Somin and the couple. "They're *slaves*?"

Somin's confusion deepened. "Of course, ma'am. A gift from the Dekronian people, in appreciation for your - "

She held up her hands. "Wait. Wait. Just give me a minute, ok?" Somin waited, looking quite lost.

"You're saying the government is giving me two slaves."

"Yes, ma'am."

"But ... " She bit her lip and shot a glance at the patiently quiet couple. "I don't *want* slaves. I don't *need* them."

Somin pursed his lips as he considered her words. His face brightened for a second, as if he'd just remembered something, then grew serious again. "Forgive me, ma'am. I had forgotten that Earth has no slaves. Now I understand your reaction." He frowned. "But I thought you were told. You didn't know you would be presented with slaves upon your arrival?"

She shook her head wordlessly.

"Ah. Well." He too now seemed at a loss for words. "Hm." He looked down and chewed his lip. "Unfortunately, refusing the people's gift would be considered an insult." He shrugged and gave her an apologetic look. "I'm afraid you have no choice but to accept them. To do otherwise would severely affect the arbitration process."

McClellan just stared blankly back at him. She had no idea how to react to the knowledge that she was now the legal owner of two human beings.

"Please allow me to introduce the new members of your house," he went on quickly. "This is Richard." The large man bowed when Somin said his name. "He came to us last year, and has proven himself a strong and capable worker. In fact, he requested that he be given to you. And this," he indicated the woman, who smiled and bowed, "is Reen. They are both pleased to be in your service."

Both slaves bowed again. Reen actually looked eager. Richard, however, remained virtually expressionless, his dark eyes placid.

"Are you familiar with our traditions regarding slaves, ma'am?" asked Somin.

"Somewhat," said McClellan uncomfortably. "I didn't delve too deeply into that area, other than a few basic questions about their fair treatment. I didn't know I would have to, um ... " She cleared her throat, feeling very self-conscious in front of the two people she now owned.

"I see. Then will you permit me to give you the relevant information?"

"Of course."

Somin nodded and continued. "Regarding their treatment, I'm pleased to tell you that abuse of a slave is illegal. They are not only valuable property, they are the bulk of our workforce. It is in our best interest to see that they are fed, clothed, educated and kept healthy. There is no excuse for not doing so. Any slave owner found guilty of abuse or neglect forfeits all his slaves. Depending upon the nature and severity of the abuse, he may be forbidden by the government to ever own another."

Somin raised his hand to indicate the slaves' clothing. "All slaves are identified by this uniform of dark grey, or a variation of it - depending on the weather, you understand. Everything they wear is the same color, including their undergarments. They are permitted no other colors. Their clothing is manufactured by other slaves at a factory dedicated to that purpose."

He pointed to the collars worn by the couple. "All slaves are also required to wear this collar, which bears the name of their owner. Any slave found without one is subject to punishment, unless it is proven that they have been legally freed by their owner."

"So they can be freed," said McClellan. "They don't *have* to stay slaves."

"Some can be freed, yes. But not all."

"Why not?"

Somin again indicated the slaves' metal collars. "Richard and Reen are a perfect illustration of this point. Richard's collar contains a behavioral inhibitor, because he came to us from a penal colony."

McClellan's eyes widened. "He's a convict?"

"Yes, ma'am. But please don't worry," Somin assured her. "He is perfectly safe and trustworthy. The inhibitor - which he cannot remove, by the way - makes it impossible for him to harm anyone, or even to make an escape attempt. He is perfectly content as he is."

She glanced at Richard, whose expression seemed to bear out Somin's words.

"Richard, of course, cannot ever be freed, for obvious reasons. Reen, on the other hand," continued Somin, "needs no inhibitor, as she was born into slavery. She has been in service all her life."

"Your parents were both slaves?" McClellan asked the young woman.

"No, ma'am." Reen's voice was soft and sweet, almost girlish. "My mother gave birth to me after serving her master in the bedroom. When I was old enough, he sold me."

The Arbiter blanched. "He ... " She shook her head, disbelieving. "He sold his own *child*?"

"It was his right, ma'am," said Reen. "I was his property, and he had no use for another slave."

"That's awful." McClellan turned to Rellamarsen. "How can you - "

"Please, ma'am," Somin said soothingly. "Don't be upset. As I told you, Reen's life has been devoted to service. Your concern will merely puzzle her, for she knows no other way."

"But to take you from your mother like that - "

"It was expected, ma'am," Reen said calmly. "When I was a young child, I was told that I would one day leave my master's house, and that I must bring honor to his name by serving my new owner well. He and my mother saw to it that I was well trained. I hope my service pleases you, ma'am."

McClellan stood open-mouthed with shock until she finally made her voice work. "I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job," she said, not knowing how else to respond. Reen bowed slightly at her words.

Somin smiled at the female slave. "Reen is quite intelligent, as you can see. And, although she is trained in every aspect of a slave's duties, her specialty is that of Lady's Attendant. She comes to you with excellent references, as does Richard, if you care to review them."

"Thank you, Somin, that, uh - won't be necessary." McClellan smiled nervously at the Liaison. "I trust your judgment."

The man beamed. "Thank, you, Arbiter. It's most kind of you to say so."

McClellan's eyes had gone back to the eerily silent Richard. His face looked familiar somehow, but she couldn't place it.

"Richard," she said turning to him. "Is it possible that we've met before?"

"Yes, ma'am. At the crash site." His voice was deep, rumbling in his chest like thunder.

She frowned, trying to think - ah, yes. Now it came to her.

"I helped put you on the stretcher," he continued before she could say anything. "I was to be presented to you at the official welcoming ceremony, but was sent to the crash site instead as part of the search party."

"Why did you ask to be uh, given to me?"

"It pleases me to be considered worthy of serving you, ma'am."

"Oh."

"As you can see, Arbiter, Richard is physically quite powerful," Somin chimed in. "Although he is prevented by his inhibitor from harming anyone, the level of control can be adjusted if necessary so that he may fight in your defense."

"Oh. I see." McClellan nodded. Suddenly, she realized that all this slave nonsense had diverted her from what she really wanted to talk about.

"Somin, what happened up there? What went wrong with the shuttle?"

The man cleared his throat and took on the same mournful expression the doctor and nurse had earlier when she'd mentioned it.

"I regret to inform you, ma'am," he said carefully, "That the transport on which you arrived was destroyed by an explosion."

"What?" It came out in a shocked whisper. McClellan's knees gave way, and she sank trembling onto the bed.

"Your surface shuttle was the only one to clear the transport before the explosion. You are one of only five survivors." He paused. "We believe the coalition of independent shippers was responsible."

She tried to swallow back the tears, but they came anyway. A tissue appeared out of nowhere, and Reen started gently blotting her face. Too stunned to stop her, she let it be done.

"There were children ... " McClellan whispered. "Children on that ship. I saw them."

"Fourteen, to be exact, ma'am, according to the ship's manifest," Somin informed her sadly. "You see now why you are fortunate to have someone like Richard to protect you."

"But ... why would they kill children? I don't understand." She took the tissue from Reen and dabbed at her eyes. "They had to know those kids were there. They had to. There are *always* kids on a transport that size."

"I think that was of little concern to them, ma'am." Somin's mouth was a grim, tight line. "They cared only that they were destroying the property and profits of a competitor."

McClellan closed her eyes and tried to breath normally. Her travels over the years had put her in some pretty unusual situations, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

_My god, how much worse can it get?_

The sound of marching boots suddenly pounded down the hallway, stopping by the door of McClellan's room. A man in military dress stepped in and stood at attention.

"Please forgive the intrusion, Liaison." He nodded to the two dignitaries. "But a large riot has broken out, and is headed this way. My men and I need to escort the Arbiter to her hotel immediately."

"Of course, Lenned. Thank you." Somin turned to McClellan. "We should go now. Quickly." She rose shakily from the bed, and Somin offered her an arm to lean on. "Don't worry about your luggage - Richard and Reen will see to that."

In fact, the two slaves were already busy - Reen expertly gathered and repacked her mistress' toiletries into the scuffed case, then helped Richard pick it up. She was apparently much stronger than she looked.

The hallway was filled with soldiers, who stood at attention as Lenned led Somin and McClellan past. "This way, ma'am." He indicated a side door, stepping through it before them. The group of soldiers followed. A large military vehicle was waiting outside, surrounded several smaller ones. All were topped by large, manned guns.

"Where's the hotel?" asked McClellan absently as they zoomed out of the parking lot. She was squeezed into the back seat between Richard and Reen, who had taken their proper positions at her side.

"On the other end of the city, ma'am," Lenned yelled back to her over the noise of the engine. "Luckily for you."

McClellan leaned back and closed her eyes, much as she had on the shuttle before it hit the ground and split apart.

_Yeah. Lucky me,_ she thought. _Dead husband, shuttle crash, two slaves I don't want, and now I'm in the middle of a goddam war. What's next - kidnapping? Maybe an alien invasion?_

Her eyes flew back open when she felt a soft hand slip into hers. She looked into the calm green eyes of Reen.

"Don't worry, ma'am," she said, squeezing her new mistress' hand. "We'll take good care of you. We'll keep you safe. Won't we, Richard?"

The big male slave nodded. "Yes, we will."

He'd keep her safe, alright. His plan depended on it.


	3. Chapter 03

"I love you, you know." Roland's red hair flopped rakishly onto his forehead as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Really?" she giggled.

"Really."

He kissed her again and crossed his blue eyes at her in that cute way he had, making her laugh. Then he burst into flame, quickly melting into a nightmare travesty of the man he'd been.

McClellan came awake instantly, her heart pounding in her ears. When she'd calmed down a bit, she realized she was sitting up in bed, covered in sweat. This dream hadn't plagued her in months. Why now?

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" said an anxious female voice. McClellan aimed her eyes in the direction of the voice, and saw the shadowy shape of a woman approaching the bed, followed closely by a large man.

_Who *are* these people?_ she wondered fuzzily. _Am I still dreaming?_

The woman-shape sat down next to her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders. "We heard you scream," she said softly. "Did you have a nightmare?'

The big man stopped at the foot of the bed, but didn't say anything.

"Richard, turn on a light, please," the woman-shape instructed. "Make sure it's low." The man moved to McClellan's bedside and tapped the base of the small lamp on the nightstand once, leaving it on its dimmest setting. The room emerged from the shadows, and McClellan found herself looking into a pair of large, concerned green eyes.

_Reen, that's her name,_ she quickly reminded herself. _My slave ..._

She shuddered a bit, remembering that. And the man was Richard, the other one, who was supposed to be her bodyguard now.

"You're sweating, ma'am. Would you like some water?"

McClellan nodded, and Reen disappeared into the small kitchen area, leaving Richard standing by the bed. She returned with a glass, and watched as her mistress drained it in just a few swallows.

"Thanks," she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Reen took the empty glass. "That's kind of you, ma'am - but thanks aren't necessary."

"It's a habit I can't seem to break." McClellan made a weak attempt at a smile. "You'll just have to get used to it."

"Yes, ma'am, as you wish." Reen gave a little bow and took the glass to the kitchen.

"Will you need me to stay, ma'am?" asked Richard, his deep voice made almost sepulchral by sleep.

"No, thanks," McClellan yawned, turning to look at him. "You can ... " Her words trailed off as she suddenly noticed that he was clad only in a pair of dark grey shorts. And holy shit, was he *built*. She couldn't stop gawking at him. All sorts of interesting things were starting to happen to her body, things that hadn't happened in a very long time.

Richard cleared his throat. "Ma'am?"

Her head snapped as she forced her gaze back up to his face. "Yeah ... uh ... I'm fine." She could feel herself blushing. "Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

"No apology is needed. I'm at your service, ma'am. You can wake me at any time." He bowed slightly, then turned to go just as Reen came back in. His bed was located in the smaller slaves' room next to the main bedroom, so he was within earshot should he be summoned. Reen, as a personal Attendant, slept in the same room as her mistress. She had her own small bed against the opposite wall.

Reen waited until they were alone to speak again. "You must be uncomfortable in that damp gown, ma'am. Let me get you a fresh one."

Before McClellan could reply, Reen went to the closet and started searching through the garments there, finally pulling out a short, thin gown. It looked extravagant next to the plain grey one she wore. "Will this do, ma'am?"

McClellan nodded groggily and got out of bed. Damn, she really *was* drenched. "Yes, that's fine." She started to undress, but Reen hurried over and stopped her.

"Oh, no, ma'am - I'll do that." She laid the clean gown on the bed, and McClellan reluctantly allowed her to remove the sweaty one. The cool conditioned room air felt good on her damp skin.

"I've changed my mind," she said when Reen picked up the fresh gown. "I think I'll sleep like this. It's more comfortable."

Reen nodded dutifully. "Of course, ma'am. As you wish." She picked up the wet gown and draped it over a nearby chair, then rehung the clean one in the closet as McClellan got back into bed.

It was so weird, having someone else dress and undress her. Over her protests, Reen had insisted on preparing her for bed earlier as well. It made her feel like a child again, like she was being tended by her mother. Having Reen sleeping in the same room wasn't so bad, though - she was used to the constant female company, having grown up sharing a room with two sisters. To be honest, it had been nice to have someone there when she woke up screaming, with that horrible vision of Roland's melting face.

"Ma'am?"

McClellan rolled her head to the side to look at Reen.

"Would you sleep better if I stayed with you? I thought you might not want to be alone after your nightmare."

_No, I *don't*,_ thought McClellan.

"No, that's ok, thanks," she told Reen. "I'll be alright."

"Are you sure, ma'am?" Reen pressed. "You still seem agitated."

"Yeah ... " she answered slowly. "I guess I am."

Without a word, Reen slipped under the covers before McClellan could stop her, maintaining a respectful distance. "Would you like the light left on, ma'am?"

"Uh - no ... you can turn it off." McClellan pulled the covers closer to her body, suddenly very aware of her own nudity.

Reen did as she was told, then settled onto her side facing her mistress.

_It's like some kind of weird slumber party,_ thought McClellan. _With a slave instead of sisters._

The two women lay silently for a while, McClellan shifting every few seconds to find a comfortable position. Reen just lay quietly, watching her. Her sweet voice piped up after a few minutes of this.

"Ma'am?"

"Yeah."

"You seem unable to sleep. May I share your burden?"

McClellan sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"If you wish, you can tell me your dream, and then you won't have to bear it alone. Perhaps then you can sleep."

McClellan considered this for a moment. She'd never told anyone about the dreams, not even her sisters. Maybe Reen was right - maybe it *would* help. After all, it had been two years - a damn long time to be holding a terrible image like that inside her head.

_What the hell, why not. Better than talking to a goddam therapist. At least this way I don't have to pay for it._

"It was about my husband," she told Reen after a long pause, ignoring the guilty twinge when she remembered that the reason she wasn't paying was because she owned this woman. "About ... how he died."

"How did he die, ma'am?"

McClellan hesitated, waiting to see if she could do this without crying. She hadn't really discussed Roland's death with anyone since a few months after his funeral. Her family knew better than to broach the subject, and all her friends had long since given up trying to make her talk about it. But here she was, about to spill her guts to a slave, of all people.

_You shouldn't think of her that way,_ she corrected herself.

"Well ..." she began slowly. "He was a technician. His job was maintaining the plasma units in power stations. One day, he was doing that, and - " She stopped to breath away the tears that threatened to spill over.

Reen waited silently for her to go on.

"He was working on a plasma unit, and it had a leak no one knew about. They should have seen it. They should have sealed off the unit and never let him near it, but - " McClellan squeezed her eyes shut, and tears popped out of the corners and trickled down onto her pillow. She took a few more deep breaths.

"He was walking up to it when it ruptured, and it just ... burned him all over, pretty much." She started shivering. "He lived for two days after that. He uh ..." She stopped to sniff and wipe at her eyes. "He was just ... melted. Like a candle. I could barely tell where his eyes were."

She felt a tissue touch her face as Reen, for the second time that day, blotted her tears away.

"He wasn't in any pain, thank god. They kept him full of drugs. He didn't even recognize me when I went to see him."

"Then it was his face in your dream," said Reen. "His ruined face."

McClellan let out a shuddering breath, unable to stop herself. "Yes."

"Now I'll see it as well, ma'am," Reen whispered, still carefully blotting. "Such a burden is more easily borne by two." She scooted a bit closer and placed a hand on top of her mistress' head. "Rest your mind, ma'am," she whispered. "You need your strength for tomorrow's arbitration."

McClellan closed her eyes and relaxed into the soothing sensation of Reen's soft hand stroking her hair back from her forehead, much as her mother had done in her childhood. Gradually, her crazily spinning mind slowed down, and she felt herself sinking once more into slumber. It felt so good just to have someone touch her again.

_So this is what it's like to have a slave,_ she thought drowsily. _It's not so bad, really..._

When she next awoke, the image in her mind was not that of her dead husband, and the fire was centered much lower than her head.

"Should I call Richard, ma'am?"

"What?" McClellan was breathing hard and sweating again, but this time not from fear.

"You were having a pleasure dream, ma'am," said Reen's voice beside her in the dark. "Would you like Richard to serve you now?"

"*Serve* me?"

"Yes, ma'am. He can relieve your need, if you wish." Reen was calm and matter-of-fact, as if she had merely offered her mistress another glass of water. It took a few moments before McClellan was awake enough to understand what the slave was suggesting. 

"Uh - " she sat up quickly, holding the covers to her chest. "I'll be right back." McClellan leapt out of bed and walked quickly to the large bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"Lights, twenty percent." When she could see, she reached for the robe hanging near the tub and slipped it on, then sat down heavily. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for a situation like this. She dropped her head into her hands and tried to still the whirling in her mind. Her brain was a mad jumble of images, the most prominent at the moment being that of the man in the next room.

Her marriage had been an especially passionate and satisfying one. McClellan was no prude, but so long had her sexual thoughts been centered on her husband, they'd practically dried up after his death. She'd pretty much resigned herself to being alone and built her whole life since then around her work. True, opportunities had come her way - some of them with exceptionally attractive men - but nothing had ever happened. None of them had sparked any interest, awakened her senses the way Roland had.

Until now.

_Why?,_ she thought, raking her hands back through her hair. _Why did it have to be here, now? Why did it have to be a goddam *slave*? This just isn't fair._

She tried without success to push away the dream image of his broad shoulders hovering over her as he ran those big hands over her thighs and gently parted them ...

_Stop it, you idiot!_

McClellan leapt up and paced the big bathroom, the unbearable fire in her loins driving her thoughts in all kinds of crazy directions. What *would* it be like to summon Richard and order him into her bed? Reen had assumed she would, so it was apparently common practice here. He *was* hers to command, after all. And this wasn't Earth - she was free to indulge herself if she wished, as would any other slave owner on this world.

_Oh, my god ... you can't be serious. _She stopped to stare at herself in the mirror. _Pull yourself together, McClellan. _She lowered her head and made herself take several slow, deep breaths._ Snap out of it. Take care of business, and get back to bed. You have more important things to think about._

When she was through, she darkened the bathroom and carefully let herself out, stopping to listen to Reen's slow, even breathing. As quietly as possible, she dropped her robe on the carpeted floor beside the bed and slipped back under the covers, finally able to relax into the soft mattress without tossing and turning. Her erotic dream seemed a bit more distant now, and had lost some of it intensity.

Still, she couldn't help replaying the heated fantasies that had flooded her mind as her fingers did their work.

She couldn't stop herself from wishing, just before she fell asleep, that the person next to her was someone else.

Someone she shouldn't want at all.


End file.
